


viscera

by afujisaii



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Underage Drinking, how does one tag, idk what happens when anymore, kinda set in the 70s/80s/90s somewhere in there, sorry if theres plot holes, the scenes blend together for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afujisaii/pseuds/afujisaii
Summary: Some things were more precious because they didn’t last long enough.Just like snowflakes, Jisung muses absentmindedly, eyes traveling down the slopes of Minho’s back as the older locks up the convenience store for the night.





	viscera

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends
> 
> sorry if this is trash ive been sitting on it for a few months now and read it so many times that I hate it! so thats fun!  
> feel free to comment if youre confused about anything bc im not sure how well i conveyed certain things 
> 
> anyways, enjoy

“Tell me about the dream where we’re in that field full of flowers with eyes and the sky is orange like cream soda,” Jeongin says dreamily from Jisung’s right, currently cuddled into Seungmin’s side. The older boy sighs, feigning annoyance.

“How many times are you gonna make me repeat it, you punk,” Seungmin replies, ruffling his hair fondly. Jeongin pouts like the kid he is and that’s all it takes for Seungmin to cave immediately. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Jisung smiles as he listens to the brothers, preoccupied with rolling a blunt on the worn out coffee table that Woojin loves so dearly. He’d definitely kick Jisung out if he was there, and not out buying groceries, for defiling his precious furniture with illegal substances. He was gone, though, so Jisung continues to flick his thumb with practiced ease, pressing down on the plastic button of the lighter, and runs the flames across the edges of the rolling papers, sealing it cleanly shut.

“And we were walking past the waterfall with purple water and flying fish when suddenly—“

“Guys,” Jisung interrupts, admiring his work and cutting Seungmin’s story off as he marveled at how good of a job he did. “It’s beautiful. Almost don’t wanna smoke it.”

“You’re so annoying,” Seungmin admonishes with no real bite. “I was in the middle of talking and not to mention Woojin hyung will kill you if you smoke that in here. Go somewhere else.”

“Yeah, leave! Seungmin was just getting to the good part!” Jeongin whines.

“Jeongin, you think the whole story is the good part,” Jisung replies, reaching over to flick the younger on the forehead, but complies with the request nonetheless. He pushes himself up and goes to get his shoes, a ratty pair of converse that looked a little too loved, and slips them on. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store down the street, want anything while I’m out?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Seungmin says and looks down at Jeongin.

“Will you get me one of those energy drinks you always have. Chan hyung doesn’t like me drinking those, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” the younger replies with a sly smile and Jisung nods, amused. He should really stop influencing the kid.

“I’ll be back!” he calls as he steps out the door, closing it on his friend’s farewells.

It had just turned September a few days earlier, so the nights were still fairly warm, and Jisung could get away with wearing just a T-shirt a little longer, opting to leave his windbreaker on the kitchen table.

He takes out his lighter once more as he begins the walk to the store, placing the blunt precariously to his lips and lighting up. It takes a few tries of his practiced thumb and cupping of his hand around the lighter to keep the flame from blowing out in the slight breeze. He takes a deep drag, feeling his shoulders relax as the smoke filled up his lungs until he couldn’t breathe in anymore. He liked the way the smoke left a scratchy feeling in the back of his throat. Jisung watches as the other end glowed a bright, welcoming red as he smoked his way through the blunt. It was almost the color of the lollipops Jeongin loved so much, just definitely not the same artificial cherry flavor. Maybe he’d buy the younger some if the convenience store had any in the kind he liked so much.

He blew out the smoke slowly, watching as it drifted up, up, and away into to the darkening purple of the night sky, the tendrils wafting this way and that before dispersing into nothing. He imagines his future succumbing to the same fate as the smoke, fading before getting far, ghosting through his fingertips but still just out of reach, and lets a bitter smile overtake his lips. This town fucking sucks, he thinks as he takes another deep drag, letting out the bitterness that got tangled in the smoke. 

He burns his way down to the stinger easily as he walks down the familiar streets, and discards it absentmindedly in the grass as he makes his way up the driveway to the doors of the convenience store. He pulls them open with a hard tug, knowing from years of living in the same small town that they were old, rusty, and continuously got harder to open as the years passed, but the store owner, Mr. Jung, couldn’t be bothered to fix them, that cheap old man. They creaked loudly, a familiar and welcoming noise that had Jisung humming contently as he walked inside, taking refuge from the slight nip of the breeze.

He makes his way to the back of the store, straight to where he knows the energy drinks Chan hates so much are fully stocked. He plucks two off the shelf, one for him and one for Jeongin, before continuing to aimlessly look around for random snacks. He ends up with a bag of popcorn and a few of those cherry flavored lollipops Jeongin likes to have around (and if he maybe slipped a candy bar or two into his pocket in the one corner of the store the camera couldn’t see, no one had to know). He heads over to the cash register, satisfied.

He sets everything down and reaches into his back pocket for the crumbled up dollar bills he stashed there the night before when he’d originally planned to buy more weed from his dealer. The cashier begins ringing the items up.

“That’ll be $7.89, please,” the cashier says and Jisung looks up to hand over his money, breath stolen from his lips as effortlessly as Felix stole beer from the liquor store down the street. The man must’ve been a new worker as Jisung was sure he’d remember seeing him anywhere in the small town.

“Oh, yeah. Here you go,” Jisung stumbles out dumbly, handing over the money awkwardly. The man smirks, clearly amused. Jisung wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such a look unless it was followed with a punch. 

The cashier hands back the correct amount of change and Jisung accepts it with shaky hands, noticing the teasing traces of tattoos peeking out from behind the sleeves of his sweater. Fuck. He grabs his bag of snacks and turns away quickly, thanking him over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit.

“Do come back again!” the man calls out after Jisung, a smile evident through his words.

“Fuck me,” Jisung mutters, closing the door on the laughs of the beautiful man he hoped he would see again.

°

 

“Han Jisung!” Woojin’s voice calls out from a room over, annoyance obvious from his tone. Felix laughs, slapping his friend on the knee with his free hand.

“What did you do now?” the blond-haired boy asks, leaning back against the wall and opening his comic book once again.

“I never do anything, they just like yelling at me,” Jisung groans, not wanting to move from his comfortable position sprawled across Felix. He had just spent the last ten minutes finding that perfect spot, damnit. The other boy hums in sympathy but doesn’t reply, too preoccupied with his book to really offer any help.

“Han. Jisung.” there was Chan’s voice now. Great.

”Have fun!” Felix absentmindedly calls after him as Jisung pushes himself off the bed and makes his way out the bedroom door to the kitchen.

He walks in, immediately surrounded by the warm, comforting scent of some type of soup. Chan is sitting at the kitchen table, newspaper open in front of him and a disgruntled frown on his face, and Woojin is cutting up carrots by the sink. Chan glances over as Jisung sits at the table across from him. He folds the paper and slides it across the wooden surface till it’s in front of the younger boy.

“Did you do this?” Chan asks, voice void of any particular emotion, but Jisung knew better by now then to assume that he was ever in the clear when the older boy’s face was so neutral.

Jisung looks at the paper, reading a headline about someone vandalizing the town hall with a spray painted symbol he didn’t recognize. He looks back up to Chan and shakes his head honestly.

“I promise that it wasn’t me,” he says, glancing at Woojin behind the other boy and almost breaks his poker face when the older boy makes a silly face back at him. At least Woojin didn’t think it was him.

“Are you sure? You’re not lying, are you? Don’t think I’m going to be lenient with you now that you aren’t failing half of your classes at school,” Chan admonishes sternly. He knew he always got scolded because Chan worried about him and his future, but it got annoying sometimes when he didn’t even do anything wrong.

“Yes, mom, it wasn’t me,” Jisung says, hands up in defense. “Can I go back to reading comics with Felix now?”

“Fine. But if I so much as hear you and spray paint in the same sentence—,” Chan begins threaten, no real venom behind his words anymore.

“Alright, I’m going back upstairs now,” Jisung smiles triumphantly, getting up and walking over to Woojin, who pops a piece of chicken in his mouth. He gives the older boy a thumbs up and gets his hair ruffled in reply. He exits the kitchen quietly munching on another piece of chicken, leaving his two hyungs mumbling things to each other they didn’t want him listening in on — not that he cared to hear, anyways.

Having the two older men as his parental figures was weird at first due to their close ages, but Jisung appreciated them and their dedication to him nonetheless. 

He flops onto his bed as soon as he gets close enough, effectively scaring Felix who was busy reading.

“Woah!” his friend yells as he was pushed over, comic book getting discarded on the ground during the attack. “Hey! It was just getting exciting!”

“Whatever,” Jisung grins, reaching into his pocket to reveal the candy bars he’d stolen from the store earlier in the week. Felix’s eyes widen, lighting up in delight. “I figured you’d want one of these.”

“Gimme!” he says, making grabby hands at the candy. “Where did you get those?”

“I took them from the convenience store the other day,” Jisung says, pulling it just out of reach of Felix’s hands and laughing when the other boy whined childishly.

“You punk, give me it,” Felix says, tickling Jisung’s sides to finally snatch one out of his hand.

“I figured I should get rid of the evidence before Chan finds out,”

They settle on the bed next to each other, backs against the wall and shoulders touching. They eat in a comfortable silence, the only other noise coming from the record player next to the window where a random song was quietly playing.

“Do you think we’ll ever make it out of this town?” Felix suddenly asks, licking chocolate off his fingers obnoxiously.

“I don’t know,” Jisung replies honestly, making a face of disgust at him before doing the same exact thing. They both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“It’s just… lately I’ve been thinking.” Felix begins.

“That’s a first,” Jisung jokes, earning a punch to his arm and he quickly laughs out an apology.

“This town is so boring and I’ve got nothing to lose if I leave,” Felix continues, shifting to lay his head in Jisung’s lap and closes his eyes. Jisung’s hands find themselves gently combing through his hair, causing Felix to hum contently before he continued. “Chan and Woojin couldn’t go to college and now they really can’t leave here. I don’t want to be trapped like that.”

“I don’t either,” Jisung replies. “But what are we gonna do? Run away? We can’t leave them. And what about your parents?”

“Like they’d care. They haven’t even noticed that I haven’t slept in my own bed in almost three months,” Felix scoffs. “Say, do you have any of those suckers Jeonginie loves. That sounds good right now.”

“You literally just had a candy bar, you pig,” Jisung says, poking his side. Felix squirms away with a laugh. Jisung reaches over to his nightstand and opens the first drawer, pulling out a lollipop and offering it to his friend, who graciously takes it and pops it into his mouth.

“I stress eat, okay.”

“I know, dummy”

“It’s just food for thought, though.” Felix says after a few moments of the two sitting in silence, talking around the candy in his mouth. He’s back to being serious. “I’m not saying we’ll ever actually do it. But if we save up, hitch rides somewhere, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I just want to go somewhere, do something with my life. I don’t wanna rot in this town like everyone else.”

“Sometimes that feels like the only thing we can do,” Jisung mutters, leaning his head against the wall, and Felix offers a mumble of agreement that gets lost to the upbeat song pulsing from the speakers.

°

 

The next time Jisung visits the convenience store, it’s a week later and the cute cashier is working again. He thanks god, Jesus, and whatever else resided in the sky because he wanted to redeem himself after acting like an embarrassing fool last time. He wanders around the aisles aimlessly for a few minutes, pretending to look at food, but was really stealing glances between the bags of chips at the cashier. 

He finally gains enough confidence and decides to buy another energy drink and few more lollipops; Felix had decided to eat his entire stash even though he specifically said not to. (If a few more candy bars happened to ‘accidentally’ fall into Jisungs pocket again, only he and Felix had to know.)

“These aren’t healthy, y'know,” the cashier says once Jisung puts his items down, referring to the drink. He’s wearing a black, short sleeve T-shirt this time and his various tattoos snaking up and down his arms are on full display. Jisung tries not to get caught staring.

“Neither are the lollipops,” Jisung replies with a smile and the cashier looks taken aback for a second.

“I suppose you’re right,” he says with a small laugh, then returns the smile. He begins scanning the items.

“You changed your hair,” Jisung blurts out in an attempt to continue their conversation, watching raptly as the other boy reaches up to touch it subconsciously and brush it out of his eyes. It looks soft and Jisung finds his fingers itching to touch it.

“Ah, yeah. It was brown before, but black is a good look, don’t you think?” he replies with a stupidly attractive smirk. Jisung decides (in a moment of weakness he’d argue) that he wants to kiss the look off of his smug face.

“Yeah, you look good,” Jisung compliments, a light blush beginning to dust his cheeks and he hopes the cashier doesn’t notice. “It suits you.”

“Minho,” he says and Jisung is confused momentarily at the out of place statement. The cashier laughs at the expression on his face. “That’s my name. Minho.”

“Oh.” Jisung replies dumbly, his mind yelling at him to reply, but the presence of cute boys tended to interfere with his brain’s ability to work properly. “I’m Jisung.”

Minho nods in acknowledgment, a small smile set in place as he begins to put the snacks in a brown, paper bag. And if he throws in a few more lollipops when Jisung isn’t looking, he doesn’t have to know until he unpacks the snacks later.

“Come again!” Minho calls after him as Jisung leaves and he feels himself smile.

“I will!” he says back, satisfied when Minho returns the grin.

°

 

Changbin finds time in his very busy schedule to visit everyone. He was in his first year of university, double majoring in music composition and business — if only to please his parents— but he still tried and Jisung appreciates it. He thought his older friend would’ve forgotten about everyone by now and left them in this small town as he ventured into bigger and better things.

Jisung likes to think he minded his own business, even if his thoughts did wander to the possibility that Felix was one of Changbin’s main reasons he visited back home so often.

Jisung had told Changbin to meet him at the small pond an hour earlier — the one residing behind the bank that had gone bankrupt a few years earlier where they used to steal fireworks in the summer and set them off and run as the unmistakable lights of cop cars neared. The passed the time waiting for Felix to arrive talking and skipping stones on the murky water.

“How’s school going?” Changbin asks, rolling a small pebble around in his hands before throwing it with practiced ease so that it skipped one, two, three, four times across the surface of the small pond. It almost reached to the middle of the water, the ripples disturbing a few geese floating nearby, and they squawked, disgruntled.

“Why’re you asking me such a boring question?” Jisung says and Changbin bumps their shoulders together.

“I wanna know how my favorite kid is doing, that’s all. Chan said you were doing better and I just wanted to know if you actually were,” Changbin replies, picking up another pebble. “Don’t want you repeating any classes like I did. It sucks, especially in the summer.”

“School’s fine, don’t worry. And I’m not your favorite, anyways,” Jisung says with a pointed look. His older friend has the audacity to look offended.

“Yes, you are! Who else would be?” Changbin asks, skipping another pebble. It doesn’t go as far as the last one, hitting the water at a weird angle and plunging under the surface with a loud plop.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself,” Jisung says, watching from where they sat as Felix’s head peeked around the corner of the bank. Changbin turns to see what he was looking at.

“Changbin hyung!” the blond boy calls out excitedly, waving a hand wildly in greeting. He runs over and quickly tackles the university student in a hug. They both let out groans as they hit the ground and Jisung shakes his head at the two.

“Idiots,” he says fondly, turning back to the pond as Changbin begins to scold the younger boy for not being respectful to his hyung, although the smile he was fighting off said he felt differently.

“I missed you,” Felix mumbles, face tucked into the crook of Changbin’s neck.

Changbin pats his head and mutters something Jisung can’t make out, but from the way Felix giggles like a little girl, he decides he doesn’t want to know, anyways.

“Oh, yeah, I invited Hyunjin, too. He should be around sooner or later,” Felix says once he releases Changbin. He’s now sitting in between Jisung and Changbin, the two on the outside taking turns to bump him with their shoulders. “He said something about finishing the new choreography he was working on before he could come .”

“Oh, cool,” Changbin acknowledges with a curt nod that Felix doesn’t notice.

Jisung shakes his head at the pair. For as smart as Changbin was, he sure was oblivious to the way Felix acted around him, and only him. Idiots. He was friends with such idiots.

°

 

Jisung tries to restrain himself, truly, he does. But the pull of the mysterious cashier is stronger than his self control and when barely another week rolls around, he finds himself back at the convenience store once again. It’s raining, the first time in a few weeks and Jisung has forgotten his umbrella in his room, so when he runs inside, he slides on the wet floor and almost falls over.

“Whoa, there! I know I’m a catch but at least try to stop yourself from falling for me so quickly,” Minho jokes, coming out from behind the counter to help steady a dripping Jisung.

“Oh, shut it,” Jisung huffs, blowing his wet bangs out of his eyes. He’s not actually annoyed but he likes to pretend to be. “Besides, I’m only here because I’m a great person who spends their own, hard-earned money on lollipops for their friends.”

Minho looks unconvinced and supplies a “mhmm, sure” before using a rag to wipe up the water Jisung had brought inside with his ratty pair of converse. After he’s done he heads back to the counter, discarding the rag absentmindedly on the chair under the cash register, and grabs the suckers for Jisung.

“Just take them,” he says and Jisung looks up from where he was fixing his shoelaces so they didn’t drag on the wet pavement and get even more soaked.

“No, no. I couldn’t,” Jisung denies the offer, although he fights the urge to grasp the opportunity of free food, even if it was just lollipops. Minho rolls his eyes.

“Oh, please. It’s not like you don’t steal candy bars every time you come in here,” the black haired boy says with a knowing smirk and Jisung gapes at him, a sputtering mess.

“W-what… I don’t— how did you know?” Jisung feels guilty all of the sudden, though stealing food had been ingrained into his life since he was a child. 

Countless nights, before Chan had picked him up as a young teen, he’d spent rummaging through dumpsters or snatching small snacks from convenience stores, or even pickpocketing strangers. It was a second nature to him at this point, a way to survive in this shitty town.

“You’re not as slick as you seem,” Minho supplies, but he doesn’t seem mad about it. It doesn’t seem like he cares at all, really.

“Well, maybe I just wanted the cute cashier to notice me,” Jisung says, attempting to play off the shock that he’d actually been caught. If it had to be anyone, he supposes he’s glad it’s Minho. The older boy just blinks at his response, effectively distracted, and Jisung takes the opportunity to pull himself up on top of the counter. He swings his legs over so that he’s facing Minho and changes the subject swiftly. “What do you do here when there aren’t customers? It seems so boring, I think I’d go crazy.”

“Hmm,” Minho hums, head tilting slightly in thought. “Usually, I just play music and dance or do homework, or sometimes even take a nap.” A slight grin appears on his face and Jisung doesn’t like it one bit. “Or, on most days, I like to think about the prettiest boy I’ve ever laid eyes on who has blond hair and buys lollipops for his friends, and sometimes even steals candy bars when he thinks the cashier isn’t looking.”

“Hey! It was only a few times!” Jisung protests, not registering Minho’s compliment until a few seconds later and his ears begin to turn red. He chooses to ignore them in favor of hitting Minho’s shoulder lightly. “Besides, you didn’t grow up here. You don’t get it. I don’t steal because I think it’ll make me look cool.”

“Oh, is that so?” Minho asks lightly, though he seems to understand the weight of Jisung’s words and doesn’t push any further. “Well, I think you’d look cool if you could pull it off more discreetly.”

“I usually can, you just distract me,” Jisung says, kicking his feet out like a child and focusing his attention on the dirty wet-floor signs stacked away in between two cabinets. Minho lets out a breathy laugh but before he can reply Jisung continues, “Wanna give me a pack of cigs for free, too? I’d really appreciate that one.”

“Shut up and stop smoking.” is his answer and Jisung scoffs like that’ll be the last thing he does.

°

 

There was an old train car that had been abandoned years prior that somehow became the place Jisung and his friends would hang out. It was on the outskirts of town, far away from any houses or businesses, so they hung out and threw parties there without worrying about getting caught, not that the police would do anything. Jisung was more scared of an angry Chan, anyways.

“Yo, Hyunjin, pass me the light,” Felix says from where he, Jisung, and Changbin are crammed onto an old, dirty couch. They’d found it on the side of the road and transported it to the train car with WooJin’s pickup truck. Changbin makes a face at the bowl in Felix’s hands.

“You should stop smoking,” the older boy says and Felix makes direct eye contact with him before flicking his thumb and putting the bowl to his lips. He takes a deep drag after he lights it and blows the smoke straight at Changbin’s face and Jisung can’t help but laugh at the two.

“You’re so petty, Felix,” Seungmin says, shaking his head in amusement. He’s sat on a recliner off to the right that matches the ratty couch. Jeongin’s over by Chan and Woojin, attempting to help light a fire in the rusty fire pit that had been there since they first discovered their hang out place.

“I literally hate you so much,” Changbin mumbles out after the cloud of smoke disperses, but they all know he doesn’t mean it. Two seconds later Changbin’s reaching for the bowl himself, taking a few hits before handing it back to Hyunjin. Felix just gives him a look that Jisung can only decipher as him being annoyed at Changbin but also wanting to kiss him silly. It’s gross.

“We should spice this place up, make it more homey,” Felix says after a few moments of comfortable silence. He was looking around the room with a glint in his eyes that said he already knew what he wanted the place to look like. ”Especially for our banger.”

His voice is deeper than usual and Jisung doesn’t even have to ask to know he’d eaten an edible earlier in the day. One had been conveniently missing from the stash the two shared. Jisung wanted to save them for their annual Halloween party that was happening in a little over a week, but he couldn’t be mad at his best friend when the other had that funny, glossy look in his eyes.

“I like that idea,” Chan says enthusiastically from where he had finally managed to conjure up a successful fire out of bud light boxes, twigs, and other miscellaneous items he’d found lying around.

“I’ll help you,” Hyunjin offers and Felix’s face immediately lights up.

“Yes! We can get a radio and bop to music and—“

“I’ll help you, too,” Changbin interrupts and Jisung makes eye contact with Seungmin, the two of them shaking their heads at each other.

“Yay, Changbin hyung,” Felix smiles and grabs his arm earnestly. “My favorite hyung can rap for us as we decorate.”

Changbin looks close to grabbing Felix and kissing the smile off his face, so Jisung decides to change the subject like the good friend he is before his poor excuse of a hyung embarrasses himself.

“Anyways, guys,” he starts. “I have this friend—“

“Wow, hyung, you actually have friends,” Jeongin teases as he and Woojin pull the fire pit over to where the rest of the group are sitting.

“Did you all hear that slander? Jeongin, you hang out with your own brother, you loser, shut your mouth.” Jeongin has the audacity to not look even mildly offended. “Anyways, as I was saying, I have this friend and I think it’d be fun if you guys met him. Can I invite him to our Halloween party?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Woojin says uninterestedly, too busy finding more wood for the fire to keep it alive as the night continued to grow steadily colder and seep its way through the cracks in the walls. Chan gave up fire responsibility in favor of squishing Seungmin in the arm chair with cuddles. 

“Yes, invite your crush,” Felix encourages and Jisung ruffles his hair in retaliation, sufficiently messing it up. 

“Shut up, you brat, and make a move on yours,” he shoots back. 

“A crush? What is that? Suddenly, I can’t speak Korean,” Felix says. Jisung lets out a loud laugh upon seeing Changbin’s reaction as he begins pestering Felix about who he liked. 

“You guys are a mess,” Hyunjin comments from where he’s sat on the ground in front of the recliner. He’s sharing a pillow with Jeongin, the other preoccupied with trying to make braids in the older’s hair even though it wasn’t long enough. 

“Tell me about it,” WooJin mutters and it only makes Jisung laugh a little harder. 

 

°

 

A few weeks pass by and Jisung finds himself being roped into helping Felix decorate the train car for their annual Halloween party. They don’t have enough money to actually buy anything, but the homemade ghosts made out of coffee filters and string lights stolen from random front lawns was just as good. Jisung thinks he likes it better than the store-bought ones he sees every year from the families that could afford them. 

The two, plus Changbin — who passed the time sprawled across the couch and not helping —spend the night carving pumpkins together. Hyunjin ended up not being able to join them, to Changbin’s relief, due to an assignment he forgot he had to do. 

The three only end up with a few pumpkins after realizing the amount of work that went into it. Jisung pretends to be offended when Changbin said he liked Felix’s more.

“Hyung, move over. I’m tired,” Felix says once they had cleaned up and Changbin lifts his legs high enough for the other boy to duck underneath them and find a spot on the couch. Jisung decides to make himself comfortable on the recliner to their left, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he finds a suitable position. 

“Why am I the only single one in this friend group?” he whines after a few moments of suffering through the two flirting, his eyes cast at the ceiling, counting how many metal bars there were in the structure of the train car. Both Changbin and Felix make noises of protest that make him roll his eyes.

“What do you mean? What about us? And Seungmin?” Changbin replies genuinely confused, and Jisung doesn’t have the heart to make fun of him for once because man, was his friend oblivious. 

“Okay, you got me there. Seungmin is single, too, but please do me a favor and look at your positions,” Jisung says, crossing his arms behind his head to watch the two. Felix unwraps his hand from where it’s holding Changbin’s and untangles their legs. He doesn’t even look embarrassed. 

“You… have a point,” Felix contemplates with a hum and Changbin sputters incomprehensibly. Felix turns to look at the older boy. “He does, though, doesn’t he? We’ve practically been dating for the past two years, hyung. I’ve just been waiting for you to confess, but you won’t, so I guess I will right now.”

“Wha— I’m— Felix what—“ Changbin can’t form a complete sentence and his cheeks are steadily turning redder and redder. Felix smiles at him with a softness that has Jisung wanting to look away at the intimacy of it so he can vomit and be single in peace. 

“You may be older, hyung, but you sure don’t know how relationships work,” Felix laughs, hand softly placed on top of Changbin’s reassuringly. “But that’s okay, because I’ll just confess now. I like you, you dumbass.”

“Felix, what the fuck?” is the only thing Changbin can seem to say and the blond boy’s eyebrows furrow together at the response. 

“Am I wrong? Do you not like me back?” Felix questions, beginning to pull away, but Changbin catches his wrist in a light hold to stop him.

“No, I just— that’s not it. I definitely like you back. Definitely. I like you a lot. A lot, a lot. I like you so much you don’t even know.” Changbin rambles, getting more and more flustered the longer Felix lets him talk. 

“Okay, well that’s good because otherwise this would’ve made things awkward for all of us,” Felix laughs and Jisung has to join in because, well, he’s right. 

“Are you guys gonna kiss or what?” Jisung asks, effectively ruining the moment, if he could even call it that. 

“Why are you not surprised at this?” Changbin asks and Jisung almost falls off the recliner and has to recover from the sheer stupidity of the question. 

“Did you seriously just ask that? Did I hear that correctly? Are you listening to this loser, Felix?” Jisung says incredulously, rubbing his temples at Changbin’s words. “Changbin, I love you bro, but I have never met someone as oblivious and dumb as you. Of course I’m not surprised at this. Felix is my best friend and you can’t hide your feelings for shit.”

Changbin looks baffled for a second before he too realizes that his question was dumb. 

“You may be stupid, but at least you’re cute,” Felix sighs out dramatically. 

“Wait, so does this mean you’ve never liked Hyunjin? All this time I —“

Jisung decides that’s a good time to block Changbin out because he could physically feel his brain cells packing up their bags and leaving town. 

 

°

 

“This place looks so cute!” Hyunjin compliments as soon as he walks in the railcar, admiring the handmade decorations and food table set up, and Felix beams at him, proud of his work. 

Chan had provided a heater from their house, giving the normally cold train car a warm, welcoming atmosphere, and the twinkling fairy lights emitted just enough light to see. There were strings of ghosts and bats everywhere. Felix had snatched a few bags of fake, plastic spiders from the dollar store on the edge of town and sprinkled them in random places. Jisung already knew they were going to be a bitch to clean up later, but the content gleam in Felix’s eyes made it worth it. Although, if the happiness radiating from his best friend was from the decorations or from Changbin, Jisung couldn’t tell.

It was finally the night of the long awaited Halloween party and he had mustered up enough courage only a few days prior to ask Minho to come. 

“So… Hyung…” Jisung had started, kicking his feet out childishly from where he was sat atop of the counter like usual. It was nearing midnight and the stream of customers was slowing down enough for them — well, technically only Minho since he was the one that worked there, not Jisung — to not worry about getting caught slacking off. 

“What is it, Sungie? It better be important if you’re interrupting my intense game of sudoku.” Minho replied seriously, not looking up from his paper. 

“My friends and I have this Halloween party every year… and I was just wondering if, uhm, maybe you’d like to come?” Jisung asked, playing with his hands as he waited for a response. 

“Oh, well, of course I’d love to come. What are we dressing up as?” Minho said and Jisung realized he had no reason to feel nervous asking him at all. 

“Oh.. uhm, I didn’t think that far ahead,” Jisung said then realized what the older boy had actually said. “Wait. You wanna go in couple costumes?”

“Duh.”

And that’s how Jisung ends up in a striped black and white shirt with fake handcuffs clasped onto his left wrist, the other side dangling uselessly against his arm. Minho was off somewhere, mingling with his friends dressed in a police uniform to match his criminal one. He can’t bring himself to feel annoyed at being left alone when he spots the older man laughing loudly with Chan next to the bowl of fruit punch that maybe (definitely) had been spiked as soon as Felix had walked through the door a half an hour earlier. 

“Has Changbin showed up yet?” Felix yells in Jisung’s ear over the loud music coming from a boombox set up in the corner by the door, the metal walls of the train car trapping it in, amplifying it. 

“No, haven’t seen him,” Jisung replies and Felix makes a face of disappointment. ”Kindly take that couple shit elsewhere.”

“I can’t help it. Now that we’re actually together, I wanna smoosh his cheeks every chance I get just to make sure I’m not actually dreaming. Plus, he becomes so cute with a few drinks in him. You know how cuddly he gets,” Felix says and Jisung’s face scrunches up in disgust. He’s happy they’re finally together, though, not that he’ll ever admit it out loud — sober, at least. 

“I never wanna hear the words ‘Changbin’ and ‘cute’ in the same sentence again unless cute is somehow describing me.” Jisung says and Felix rolls his eyes at his best friend.

“You’re pretty cute, too. Minho better hurry before someone snatches you up,” Felix says and his words bring a blush to Jisung’s cheeks that he definitely plays off as a result of the alcohol. 

“Can you shut your whore mouth before he hears you? I don’t even know where he is,” Jisung shakes his head, albeit his fond expression, and bumps their shoulders together. 

“Whoa, man, watch the drink.” Felix jokes, holding the cup protectively to his chest. 

“As if you wouldn’t lick it from off the floor if you actually did spill it,” Jisung responds. 

“Ew, what the fuck, no I wouldn’t.” Felix protests. 

“Felix, you’ve literally done that before,” 

The blonde boy opens his mouth to reply but stops when the railcar door opens once more with a quiet screech Jisung barely hears above the music. Felix’s expression immediately lights up at the sight of his boyfriend stepping inside. 

“Bye, bitch. Don’t wait up for me,” is all Jisung hears before Felix is gone from his side and next to Changbin. The warmth of his best friend is replaced by another body a few moments later before he can fully acknowledge Felix’s betrayal. 

“You looked all alone so I decided to keep you company,” Minho says in his ear, lips ghosting over his skin with the lightest touch and it sends shivers down Jisung’s spine. 

“I was alone for like, two seconds.” Jisung laughs breathily, pulling a safe distance away to collect his bearings and maybe take a few huge sips of his drink. 

“Two seconds too long, darling,” Minho says, tripping over nothing and invading the younger’s space. Jisung has to steady him before he takes the both of them out. The strong smell of alcohol washes over him and he looks up at the black haired boy. 

“How much have you had to drink, young man?” Jisung admonishes playfully and Minho makes eye contact, a defiant look in his eyes. “I may have to arrest you if you’re not careful.”

“Whoa! That is my job, not yours,” Minho slurs out, pulling his drink out of Jisung’s reach when the younger boy makes a grab for it. 

“Are you sure about that? I’m definitely the more sober one here,” Jisung says, eyes twinkling as he watches Minho look from his cup of punch to Jisung, and back again. “And besides, who’s the one with handcuffs?” Jisung continues, raising his left hand to dangle the empty cuff in the other boy’s face. Minho’s eyes narrow at the sight of the fake toy, something new and dangerous lurking behind his hooded lids and Jisung lowers his arm slowly as he takes in the expression, not sure what to make of it. 

Minho doesn’t reply, looking back up into Jisung’s eyes and the breath is stolen from his lips effortlessly, like it always is when he sees the black haired boy. Jisung feels defenseless because even in Minho’s drunken state, he manages to be in control of the situation; he manages to make Jisung’s heart beat faster with one look, the slight raise of an eyebrow sending his heartbeat into a frenzy and sweat to accumulate on his palms. He feels like the prey, trapped in a cage with nowhere to run and Minho is the predator, watching, prowling, waiting to pounce. He doesn’t know what to make of the newfound feeling burning in his chest but he decides he’s not drunk enough for this and abruptly turns and heads for the table full of liquor, leaving Minho by the couch alone with a confused expression on his face as he watches Jisung’s retreating figure. 

“Hey, Jisung,” Jeongin greets once he reaches the table of alcohol. He’s dressed up as an alien and he looks absolutely adorable with a bouncy antenna headband placed in his curly hair and glitter adorning his cheekbones. Jisung almost wants to coo at him. 

“Whats up,” he replies distractedly, immediately reaching for a new solo cup to fill up. And fill up he does, all the way to the brim, droplets spilling over the edge and down his hand, and he chugs half of the cup before stopping to take a breath and he looks over to see Jeongin giving him a judgemental look. 

“It’s been approximately…” Jeongin casts a glance at a shitty clock leaning against the wall to their right. “...not even an hour into this party and you’re not drunk yet? Are you okay?” Jeongin asks. 

“I was making sure Minho was getting along with everyone before I got trashed.” Jisung excuses himself, taking another sip of his punch as Jeongin tsked at his side, clearly already tipsy. 

“He’s fine, you soggy piece of toast. I need my drinking buddy more than he needs you. I’m ready to get fucked up,” Jeongin says and Jisung can’t help but laugh at the younger. “But also, what’s up with you to be chugging this shit. Did you walk in on Felix and Changbin sucking each other’s faces, too?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Jisung dismisses, waving his hand. “Wait, what? You walked in on that? Already?”

“My eyes, Jisung, my poor, virgin eyes I tell you,” Jeongin says dramatically, shaking his head in disgust as he recalls the memory. “Anyways, then what is it?”

“Minho is so… god, I don’t know! He’s just Minho and I don’t know how to deal with it, help me.” Jisung all but pleads. “I don’t think I can last the whole night, Jeongin. Like, wow, I have seen God and he is standing approximately fifteen feet away from us and looking absolutely gorgeous even though literally no one asked him to.”

“Okay, so, just kiss him or something?” Jeongin suggests unsympathetically and Jisung sends him an unimpressed look. 

“Oh, yeah, totally. Let me just go do that real quick.” Jisung mocks. “What the fuck do you mean just kiss him. Why don’t you follow your own advice.”

Jeongin has the decency to at least look flustered. 

“You know I won’t hurt Seungmin like that. It’s not up to us, anyways. It’s up to Hyunjin, if he even likes boys.”

“‘If he even likes boys’ are you kidding me? This is the most useless conversation I’ve ever had,” 

“Okay, well you could listen to my advice.”

“I can’t do that sober, though.”

“I have a good solution to that problem,” Jeongin boy says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, a grin creeping onto his lips as he slowly raises his solo cup. 

“I wonder just how helpful any solution you come up with is,” Jisung jokes, already knowing where the brunet is going with this as he eyes the other’s drink, bringing his own to his lips. 

Not even two hours later, Jisung is laying in the corner of the railcar, babbling nonsense to an equally drunk Seungmin. A bag of chips is laying precariously on his knee, crumbs spilling out onto his lap and floor, but they go unnoticed. Seungmin isn’t even listening; he’s too busy admiring Hyunjin as he lights up a blunt with Felix and Jeongin next to the heater by the door. 

“And then I told the bird that was trying to steal the sandwich that I had stolen from the convenience store, but not the one Minho works at because apparently I’m bad at stealing around him—“

“Hyunjin… is so… cute,”

“Seungmin, listen to me,”

“But Hyunjin—“

“No Hyunjin, just Jisung,”

“But—“

“Did you know that Jeongin likes him, too, Minnie?,”

“He what,”

“Oops! I wasn’t supposed to tell you that!”

“He what,”

“Anyways—“

“Jisung!” Minho interrupts, more drunk than the last time he’d seen him. 

“Can I not finish my story?” Jisung questions with a pout that was induced by the alcohol running through his blood. 

“No,” Minho replies, catching Jisung’s wrist in a light hold to pull him away from where Seungmin was still trying to fathom that his little brother apparently liked his crush as well. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” Jisung stumbles forward, laughing as he steadies himself with the help of the arm of the couch. “Oh, thanks.” he says appreciatively to the piece of furniture and he hears Woojin snickering at him by the food table. 

“Jisungie,” Felix calls affectionately as he’s lead past the heater where others are gathered. The blonde puts the blunt that he was halfway done smoking in Jisung’s mouth, who brings it along for his sudden adventure with Minho. 

He’s tugged outside, the burst of crisp wind immediately making goosebumps appear on his bare arms and he shivers involuntarily. Jisung hadn’t planned to be dressed for the weather outside. Minho looks back at him and sends a warm smile over his shoulder that has Jisung deciding he doesn’t care that his jacket was lying comfortably on his bed back at Chan’s house when Minho’s smile was all it took to bring enough warmth to his chest to forget about the biting cold. 

Minho comes to a stop a few feet away from the door of the train car where a rusting ladder was attached to its side leading up to the roof. He turns to look at Jisung, face flushing from the cold and eyes illuminating from the light of the moon, and grins. Jisung absentmindedly puffs the smoke from his drag of the blunt into his face. 

“You brat,” Minho says but he’s still smiling. “Let’s climb it.”

He begins to climb the ladder, making sure Jisung is following closely behind, and they surprisingly make it onto the roof without falling off, although Jisung had teetered dangerously halfway up when a particularly big gust of wind breezed past them. They settle on the edge, shoulders brushing and legs dangling like little kids. Minho finally takes notice of Jisung’s lack of clothing when the younger shivers once more. 

“Oh, here,” Minho says, already taking his police jacket off before Jisung can protest. “I have a long sleeved shirt on under this anyways.”

“I don’t want you to get cold, though,” Jisung mumbles, but doesn’t make a move to remove the clothing from his shoulders and Minho smiles fondly as he adjusts it to get comfortable. 

“You’re more important,” Minho says quietly, eyelashes fluttering a little too much to be considered just friendly. 

“Ew,” Jisung replies, nose scrunching up at his words even though he wasn’t really disgusted by them. “But you’re right, I am pretty important.”

“That’s such a you response,” Minho chuckles, gaze moving away from the younger boy towards the stars dangling brightly in the dark, cloudless sky. 

Jisung doesn’t reply, gaze flickering over Minho’s side profile, just admiring the delicacy of his features. From the slight upturn of his nose, to his small, poised lips, to the dip that accentuates his cheekbones and makes them shine in the moonlight, Jisung drinks it in. His thoughts begin to wander into the dangerous territory of what ifs. What if Jisung places his hand on Minho’s? What if he scooted closer and placed his head on his shoulder? What if he leaned forward just enough to brush his lips against Minho’s own. What if. 

“You like what you see?” Minho asks without wavering his gaze from the nighttime sky and Jisung doesn’t even look away, the alcohol clouding his embarrassment and exchanging it for false confidence. 

“Maybe,” he replies, bringing the blunt to his lips and frowning when he realizes he doesn’t have a lighter with him. Minho, seemingly knowing Jisung better than he thought, supplies a cheap one from his pocket. Jisung hums appreciatively before cupping the end of the blunt, shielding it from the wind as he lit it back up. 

“I always keep a spare lighter with me because I know you lose all of yours,” Minho says with a soft chuckle and watches as Jisung takes a deep drag, who traps the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, before releasing it slowly into the air. 

“That’s cute,” Jisung says and it comes out lightheartedly, but he means it. He was touched Minho even thought of him enough to do such a thing. He takes another deep drag, cheeks puffing out as he held it in. 

“Let’s shotgun it,” Minho says and the way he says it more as a demand than a suggestion has Jisung flushing brightly. He’s so caught off guard that he sputters, coughing as he lets the smoke escape his lips. 

“What?” Jisung asks with an incredulous laugh, not sure if he actually heard that correctly. Minho’s face remains serious, though. 

“I said to shotgun it,” Minho repeats, looking from the blunt in his hand and back to him. The black haired boy shifts his position so that his body is turned towards Jisung. 

“With you?” 

“Do you see anyone else here? Of course with me, you loser.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jisung says dumbly, his mind blank. 

He takes another big hit, the stinger burning close to his finger tips, and he turns towards Minho, who’s watching him expectantly. He leans forwards, slowly and hesitantly. The fact that Minho was the one that wanted this was boggling Jisung’s mind. He didn’t even know the black haired boy had smoked before, let alone have smoked enough to have such confidence in his request.

Minho gets fed up with how long it’s taking Jisung and leans forward himself, connecting their lips at an awkward angle. It was a little harsh, the momentum of Minho causing their teeth collide and noses to bump, but they don’t pull away. Minho opens his mouth slightly and Jisung breathes out the smoke slowly. He’s pretty sure there’s none left a few seconds later, but they stay there. Minho is the first to actually start moving his lips, insinuating a real kiss and Jisung follows along without a second thought. 

Minho’s lips are cold from the chilling wind, but Jisung supposes his are, too, and he decides that he doesn’t mind all that much, anyways. There are thousands of thoughts rushing throughout his mind but as Minho’s fingertips dance playfully across the nape of his neck to bring him closer, Jisung finds that they begin to narrow into a cohesive line of MinhoMinhoMinho. Everything about the kiss is delicate, from the soft circles Minho is rubbing on Jisung’s hand to the safe distance they stay apart. Minho is treating him with such gentleness that Jisung feels more vulnerable than he has in the past few years. 

They part a few moments later, and Jisung gets scared for a second that maybe this screwed everything up and that their friendship would crumble into a weird state of awkwardness, but then Minho is smiling at him and he’s smiling back with the same fondness and maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

 

°

 

Minho disappears the next day. He’s still gone the day after that, and the day after that one, and soon Jisung loses track of exactly how long Minho’s been gone. 

He’s sat in the train car, alone for once, just thinking. It’s quiet and he finds solace in the tranquility of the space normally inhabited by a cacophony of various noises, mostly emitted from Felix, Hyunjin, and himself. 

The thought that it was his fault Minho left wove its way slyly in and out of mind, haunting his subconscious like some type of clingy poltergeist. He hadn’t realized how much time he spent with Minho on a daily basis until he was hit with the absence of the older man’s laughter and coy remarks, and was left with nothing but the echoing of birds and distant car horns. He gets distracted for a moment by the sudden cawing of a few crows outside, the sound startling him slightly from the sheer intensity of their calls. 

The door to the train car opens, giving the space more adequate lighting than that the of the string lights still hanging up from the Halloween party. Jisung likes them and the atmosphere they provide to the usually cold and dark railcar. He looks over to his left to see Seungmin stepping inside, Felix in tow, and he sends a smile their way. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” Felix says, pushing Jisung’s legs out of the way so that he could take a seat on the couch next to him. 

“What’s up with you guys?” Jisung asks, genuinely curious. He had been isolating himself away for the past month trying to come up with some plausible story to explain Minho’s disappearance, and Felix’s eyes give away just how worried he was for his best friend. He tries not to let it show on his face, though. 

“Nothing much,” Seungmin replies, making himself comfortable on the recliner to their right. 

“Pff, nothing much is right. I’ve been trying to get him to confess to Hyunjin almost every day and every time he chickens out last minute,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. He reaches over the arm of the couch and gives Seungmin a lighthearted punch to the shoulder. “Stop being such a baby.”

“Okay, sorry Felix. Not everyone can be like you and randomly confess to the person they like and magically start dating them the same day,” Seungmin replies, sticking his tongue out and pulling himself out of Felix’s reach before he can get attacked again. 

“I like to think that’s different,”

“Is it really, though?”

“I mean, I guess I knew Changbin liked me because he is the dumbest person I know, but still. You could be the Changbin in this relationship,”

“You are pretty ignorant,” Jisung interjects. 

“I agree,”

“Hey!”

“Anyways, all I’m saying is you’ll never know unless you just do it,” Felix concludes, shrugging as if it was really that simple. 

“Well, I could say the same thing for Jisung and Minho—“ Seungmin stops himself as he realizes what he’d said and Jisung stiffens. Felix immediately sends Seungmin a harsh glare as he’s apologizing. “I’m sorry, I just forgot—“

“He kissed me,” Jisung says, ignoring Seungmin’s words. He’s looking ahead with a blank expression, mind clearly somewhere else. “So at least I got farther than you have.”

“He did what now,” Felix asks, shock evident on his face. “And you never told me?”

“I’m sorry! He disappeared the day after the party and I started to think I hallucinated the entire thing. I was pretty fucked up, no thanks to Jeongin,” Jisung explains and Seungmin groans. 

“That little brat, I swear,” the brunette shakes his head. 

“I’m hurt, Sungie. I thought we told each other everything,” Felix says in a wounded voice, dramatically shifting away from him. Jisung rolls his eyes but Felix has the desired effect on him and a small laugh escapes his lips to which Felix smiles his own triumphant grin. 

“Please, shut up. I don’t know how much of a kiss it even was,” Jisung says. “I was smoking the rest of that blunt you gave me and he told me to shotgun it with him and who was I to say no to his stupidly attractive face?”

“That’s fair,” Seungmin comments offhandedly. “He is pretty darn cute.”

“I know!” Jisung groans out. 

“Okay, first of all, I need more details about this kiss. And second of all, we really should be trash talking Minho right now for leaving without telling you why and not commenting on how beautiful he is,” Felix says sternly, but no one can take his face seriously. 

“But—“

“Jisung, I know he’s pretty, but kiss details. Now,”

“Well, it’s not really that exciting,”

“I disagree but go off,”

“He just took me to the roof of the train car, I almost fell off and died, we shotgunned some weed, and then kissed for a little bit, no biggie,”

“‘No biggie’ yeah, okay, whatever. I can barely look at Hyunjin without my legs deciding to malfunction,”

“You’re just a poor excuse of a human being, Seungmin, so who’s fault is that,”

“Felix, do us all a favor and shut up,”

“Hmm… Shutting up isn’t in my vocabulary,” Felix says. 

“Yeah, not a lot is,” Seungmin retorts. 

Felix punches him but then turns to Jisung to get back on topic. “I’m not satisfied with the lack of detail but I’ll let it slide so we can continue to trash him for the piece of shit that he is,”

“What if it was a family emergency or something? I’d feel horrible talking bad about him,” Jisung says and Felix softens slightly. Only slightly, though, because Minho hurt Jisung and he was ready to fight anyone who hurt his best friend. 

“Okay, fine, I won’t talk shit, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s gonna have to have a pretty fucking good excuse for why he dipped,”

 

°

 

Minho comes back on the first snow midway through November. It’s coming down heavily, though the flakes melt away as they come in contact with the ground, the grass not cold enough yet to sustain them long enough for a substantial amount to build up. It’s cold, a wispy breeze making the already biting air even more bitter. 

Jisung is bundled up in many layers; his bulky winter coat, long, checkered scarf, hat, and gloves making him looked ridiculous, like he walked straight out of an advertisement for ski gear, but he was warm and that was all that mattered. Chan had asked him to make a quick trip to the supermarket since they had long since ran out of milk and paper towels, and was walking up the driveway to the house when a voice called out his name from a distance. 

He turns around, squinting through the snowflakes to see a figure hurrying towards him, their long, black jacket making it difficult to tell who it was. Once they were close enough, Jisung’s face falls. He turns around once again, shaking his head as he tries to find the house key to open the front door. 

“Jisung!” Minho calls again and Jisung knows he’s at the bottom of the driveway now, so he tries to hurry, but his fingers are too cold and won’t move fast enough. He doesn’t react when warm arms are being thrown around his waist tightly. He can’t bring himself to face Minho. “Jisung.” the older man breathes out. 

He continues fumbling with the key in the lock, not replying, and Minho finally gets the hint after the hug isn’t reciprocated and releases Jisung from his hold. Jisung gets the door unlocked and makes for the warmth and comfort of inside, but Minho grabs ahold of his wrist and stops him. He stumbles back slightly, almost dropping the groceries in the process and he sends Minho a cold look. 

“Jisung…” Minho repeats, trembling eyes searching the younger’s. Jisung almost caves because he looks defeated, eyes empty and sad, and he’s shivering, though he attempts to hide it. Jisung wonders if his coat is warm enough for this weather; it looks like he’d traveled quite some distance by foot with the way his icy hands send a shiver down Jisung’s spine and how his lips have a blue tint to them. All he wants to do is card his fingers with Minho’s and pull him close, to tell him whatever happened to him while he was gone will work out and that he’s there for him, but he’s still hurt and can’t bring himself to say such things just yet. 

Jisung pulls his hand out of Minho’s grip and the now blond-haired boy looks hurt by his actions. 

“Come inside, it’s cold,” Jisung finds the words coming out of his mouth before he can stop them. He moves, kicking snow off of his boots before stepping inside. He turns back, holding the door as he waits for Minho to follow him. “Are you coming?”

Minho looks dumbfounded as he stares at the open door. He looks at Jisung and back to the opening before making the decision to go inside. They take off their shoes and leave them on the welcome mat that had a snowman wearing an ugly sweater on it. Chan had seen it at the dollar store and insisted that “yes, Jisung, we absolutely needed it”.

Jisung leads Minho upstairs to his his small bedroom where he had left Felix asleep in his bed earlier. He opens the door, allowing Minho to enter first before closing it behind them. He’s thankful Chan and WooJin were busy making something for dinner downstairs, hidden away in the kitchen. 

Felix looks over from where he was dangling off the edge of the bed upside down, attempting to play with a yo-yo in that position. He sits up immediately upon realizing Jisung wasn’t alone. 

“You fucker,” he spits out once he recognizes Minho. Minho looks taken aback, not used to Felix acting in such a way, and shifts to hide slightly behind Jisung, who rolls his eyes and sits next to Felix, leaving the older boy to fend for himself. “What the fuck are you doing back here?”

“I just want to explain myself to Jisung,” Minho says timidly, the strong, confident Minho who did what he wanted and took no shit from anyone was nowhere to be found. 

“If you want to talk to Jisung, you have to talk to me, too,” Felix replies and Jisung can see Minho physically retreating into himself, but he makes no comment. “We’re a packaged deal.”

Minho doesn’t reply. He’s standing awkwardly by the door, puffy jacket still on, and he looks absolutely pitiful. His hands fidget uncomfortably as he tries to articulate his explanation and Jisung wants to take them in his own and press soft, fleeting kisses across the rough skin patterned with callouses from dance and who knows what else. It hurts Jisung to see him like this. 

“I just…” Minho begins, but his mouth doesn’t sound out the rest of the sentence. He looks lost on how to start. 

“What happened to you?” Jisung says instead and it comes out softer than he wanted to let on, but he didn’t care all too much when Minho made eye contact with him. Fuck, Jisung forgot how gorgeous he was. “All I wanted was to get to know you, and once I thought I did, you left. No word, phone call, or letter. Nothing. I was worried sick, you asshole.”

“I missed you,” Minho whispers, his eyes not leaving Jisung’s. “I’m sorry.”

“I just want to know why,” Jisung pleads and Felix takes a ginger hold of his elbow, a gentle reassurance. Jisung could tell the other was still angry and wanted nothing more to lay one on Minho, but the other already had enough cuts and bruises littering the small amount of skin not covered by his clothes. Jisung finds his hands itching to graze his wounds, and he doesn’t stop himself when he reaches out to do so. Minho flinches back instinctively at first and Jisung wonders what exactly happened for him to react in such a way. 

He cups Minho’s cheek, thumb softly caressing his now sunken cheekbones and the blond-haired boy closes his eyes, relishing in his touch. Jisung watches as Minho relaxes under his pulse, not missing the content sigh that quietly escapes his lips, and he feels his heart yearn for the other even though he was right in front of him. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt your moment, truly, but we still are waiting for an explanation,” Felix says from behind Jisung and Minho pulls away from him. 

“I said I wanted to explain to Jisung,” Minho repeats. 

“And I said we’re a packaged deal,” Felix reinstates. 

“Lix, please,” Jisung says, turning to send his friend a look that has the Australian frowning. Minho watches as the two have a silent conversation through their eyes, Felix letting out an exasperated sigh when Jisung wins whatever argument they were having. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll leave. But don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Felix says, eyeing Minho. He pushes off the bed, brushing past Minho with a force that has the older stumbling back a bit. He doesn’t move once Felix is gone. 

“Well, I’m waiting,” Jisung says. “I’ve been waiting.”

“My family life isn’t the best. I had to go back home because my mom was in the hospital. I’m sorry if this isn’t enough of a reason for you but I really don’t want to talk about it more.” Minho says. 

Jisung can't think of a reply, not satisfied with the answer he got, but selfishly relieved Minho didn’t leave because of him. 

“Please, just… let me take you to dinner to make up for it? That old diner down the street?” Minho says, watching Jisung’s face for an answer. 

Jisung can’t bring himself to do anything other than nod. 

 

°

 

Jisung’s early to the diner. Changbin had helped him get ready, putting a little bit of eyeliner on and shoving him into the tightest pair of pants he owned.

“I wear these when I go clubbing back at university,” Changbin said, throwing the pair of pants straight at Jisung’s head. “Put them on.”

“These look so uncomfortable, I don’t want them,” Jisung protested, pushing them off so they hung around his neck instead. He brushed his now messy hair out of his face. Changbin turned to look at him, a stern expression on his face. 

“You’re wearing them. You’ll look hot, I promise,” the older boy insisted, grabbing a hair brush off his desk to fix Jisung’s hair. 

“This isn’t even a date, we’re just getting dinner,” Jisung mumbled and Changbin scoffed. 

“Honey, in the gay world, you’re basically married. Trust me, if it’s not a date yet, it will be next time he asks you to hang out,” Changbin said and Jisung could only groan, knowing he lost, when Changbin repeated more firmly, “Put them on.”

Now, Jisung was sitting in the diner, the pants uncomfortably restricting most of his movement. It was a Tuesday night and only one other couple was there. Jisung gets up, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, and heads to the jukebox machine. Getting a few coins out, he puts them in the slot and chooses a random song he knows. In the silver lining decorating the outside of the jukebox, Jisung could see his reflection, though being a little warped. He turned to the side, admiring how the pants fit. Ok, fine, he thought, maybe Changbin was right. He did look pretty good. A sudden tap on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts and he jumps backwards, hitting his head on the side of the jukebox. 

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, squatting down as he rubs at the spot. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he recognizes Minho’s voice. Great, totally not embarrassing at all. 

“It’s okay,” Jisung says, looking up to send him a smile, only to lose his breath (and his damn mind) because Minho looked absolutely breathtaking. He just had on a pair of black, ripped jeans and a black T-shirt with a random band on it, but he looked so damn fine Jisung wanted to scream. Minho reaches out, gently patting where he hit his head with concern. 

“Are you sure you’re okay,” he asks and Jisung nods, letting Minho grab his hand to help him stand up. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, I swear. Let’s just forget me embarrassing myself like that just happened and go get some bomb ass milkshakes,” Jisung says and Minho sends him the most endearing smile that he feels his legs go weak for a second. He manages to make it to the bar seats without hitting anything else, and they sit down next to each other, thighs brushing as they swiveled on the spinny seats like kids. 

“I’ve never been here before,” Minho says, looking around and admiring the pastel decorations and vinyls hanging on the wall. He smiles shyly when Jisung let’s out an exaggerated gasp. 

“What?” Jisung says dramatically, pretending to be astonished. “I don’t know how you’ve lived so long without ever having a milkshake here. I think I’d die.”

“I don’t live in this town,” Minho simply explains with a shrug. “But I’d love to try one with you.”

“Where do you live, then?” Jisung asks, resting his face on his hand to look at the other boy, intrigued. “Do you go to college around here?”

Minho nods, reaching out to grab a packet of sugar, playing with it absentmindedly as they waited for the server to get done washing the table that the other couple had previously sat at. 

“I live a few towns over but the convenient store was the closest job hiring to my school, so that’s how I ended up here,” Minho says, eyes crinkling as he watches Jisung’s face scrunch up in disgust. 

“This isn’t a town I’d ever wish anyone to end up in,” Jisung says, his words carrying a heavy weight of something unknown and Minho looks perplexed for a second. 

“I like it here,” Minho decides on saying and it draws out a dry chuckle from Jisung. 

“Give it time,” Jisung replies. “You won’t think that for much longer.”

Minho opens his mouth to reply, but the waiter interrupts them before he can get a word out. He asks them what they want, Jisung ordering an Oreo shake while Minho gets a mint, cotton candy one, receiving a disgusted look from the younger boy. 

“What?” Minho asks as the waiter goes to place their order. Jisung shakes his head. 

“Nothing, just... Who orders a mint, cotton candy milkshake? You freak,” Jisung teases, laughing when Minho sends him an offended look. 

“Oh, bite me,” Minho says, bumping their shoulders together lightly, no venom behind his words. “Don’t knock it till you try it, nerd.”

The waiter comes back and sets their milkshakes down, giving them a side of fries on the house after the chef had overheard Jisung expressing his disbelief that it was Minho’s first time there. 

“Can you tie the stem of a cherry with your tongue?” Minho asks after a few minutes of them sipping their shakes in a comfortable silence, dipping fries in every so often. The comforting warmth of the diner causing little droplets of condensation to run down the sides of the glass cups and a rosy glow to dust the apples of Jisung’s cheeks that wasn’t due to just the weather. 

“I’ve never tried to before,” Jisung replies, plucking the cherry from off the top of his whipped cream. “I don’t like cherries. Want mine?”

Minho takes it and bites the cherry off the stem, handing the remaining part back to Jisung. 

“Let’s have a competition. Whoever can tie the stem the fastest wins,” Minho says with a cat-like grin, eyes reflecting the bright, illuminating lights above like stars on a cloudless night. Jisung thinks he wouldn’t mind stargazing once in a while. 

“This isn’t fair, and you know it, but I’m down. What does the winner get?” Jisung asks, pushing his milkshake away. He turns to face Minho, not exactly sure if it was even possible to tie the stem only using one’s mouth. 

“A kiss?” Minho supplies playfully, a delighted laugh escaping his lips as Jisung sputters, cheeks suddenly burning up. “What? You do know they say if you can tie a stem, that means you’re a good kisser, right?”

“I think you’ve been fed lies. I’ve never heard that before,” Jisung says, turning to face the counter instead of Minho. He could trust the counter, it wouldn’t embarrass him. 

“I didn’t hear a no to the kiss,” Minho continues in a satiny voice, pushing forward to watch Jisung get impossibly more flustered. A small, amused smile takes over the older boy’s face and his expression softens ever so slightly. “You’re too cute.”

“Can we just do this dumb competition before I walk out and leave you here to wither away with the ketchup packets,” Jisung mumbles, not actually upset. 

“What happened to your confidence from the first time we kissed?” Minho asks and Jisung shoots him a look that has him putting his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, hyung’s sorry.” He places a stem into Jisung’s hand. “You ready? 3, 2, 1, go!” he counts down and they both pop the stems into their mouths at the same time. 

Jisung has no idea how to do this and Minho evidently does, but he couldn’t find any part of him to care. He watched, not really trying himself, as Minho worked quickly to beat him. It was harder than he thought, he had to admit. How did anyone think to do such a thing? Jisung looks over again and the older boy sticks out his tongue, displaying a perfectly tied knot while simultaneously mocking him for losing. Jisung would never willingly admit that he was kind of impressed. 

“Time for my kiss,” Minho says, making kissy faces at him. Jisung discards his own stem in a napkin before rolling his eyes. 

“As if,” he replies, grabbing his milkshake from where he’d pushed it away to take a sip. Before he could reach the straw, Minho pulls it away. “Hey!”

“Kiss first, milkshake second,” the older boy insists and Jisung fights the urge to look away. He reaches for the glass again, ignoring Minho’s words, only to have it pulled out of his grasp once more. 

“Minho,” Jisung whines, folding his arms across his chest. 

“You lost, I won. And the winner gets a kiss,” Minho replies matter-of-factly. Jisung wants to hide in embarrassment. 

He attempts one last time to grab his milkshake, leaning forward to get it, but Minho pulls it back again. However, the older boy takes advantage of Jisung’s position leaning towards him, and moves forward himself to give the younger boy a quick peck on the lips, retreating immediately before Jisung could even think to hit him. 

“See, was that so hard?” Minho asks, playing it cool, but the light pink beginning to appear on his cheeks said something completely different. Jisung didn’t comment on it, letting the older believe it was the warmth of the dinner making him so hot. 

“Can I have my milkshake now?” Jisung forces out, eyes casted shyly at the counter once more. Minho was going to be the death of him. 

“Oh, yeah,” the black haired boy pushes the half melted shake over to him and they both finish them in relative silence. 

They sit for another half an hour or so after finishing their drinks, talking about nothing and everything after the initial awkwardness after the kiss fizzled away. The atmosphere of the cozy, little diner was welcoming on the cold autumn night and it was nice to finally meet someone who wasn’t trapped by the little town’s ability to suck people in and keep them in its claws. 

“I should probably get going, I’ve got school tomorrow,” Jisung says, standing up from the old, creaky stool after he caught a glance at the clock on the wall above the cash register. Minho stands with him. 

“Yeah. I should go, too. I’ve got a shift at ass o’clock tomorrow morning,” he says with a yawn. Jisung finds it endearing, but then again, he thought anything Minho did was. 

“Maybe I’ll visit you on my way to class,” Jisung says as they head towards the door, sending him a smile. 

“Maybe I’ll be waiting for you,” Minho replies, matching the upturn of Jisung’s lips. 

They bid farewells once outside and headed in opposite directions, smiles still on their faces. The moon was only beginning to rise and the night was starting to get chillier, but it seemed to Jisung that the warmth of the little diner had decided to keep him company on his way home that night.

 

°

 

Jisung almost doesn’t notice at first. 

Hyunjin is normally clingy with everyone and Jeongin usually lets the older do whatever he wanted. The only indication that something between the two had changed was Seungmin’s sudden absence. 

“Has anyone seen Seungmin lately? I feel like he’s avoiding us or something,” Jisung mentions offhandedly, interrupting an intense game of uno happening on Chan’s living room floor. 

“Don’t you even dare put down that card, Felix or so help me god,” Woojin is threatening when Changbin looks over. 

“Huh, you’re right. I was wondering why it seemed quieter than usual,” he agrees. 

Hyunjin sighs and Jeongin suddenly looks uncomfortable at Jisung’s words so Jisung silently confirms his suspicions. “He’s avoiding us. Ignoring, actually.” Hyunjin says. 

“Why?” Felix asks, setting his cards down. 

“Well… I may or may not have finally asked Jeongin out,” Hyunjin admits and the younger of the two hides his face in embarrassment from the encouragement they receive from the others. 

“Took you long enough!” Chan comments from the kitchen and Hyunjin chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, but now I fucked things up with Seungmin and I don’t know what to do. He won’t talk to me or Jeongin.” he explains. 

“Which is stupid because we both agreed that we’d let Hyunjin make the first move and he did so he has no right to be mad,” Jeongin complains. He seems unbothered, sorting through his cards nonchalantly, but Jisung can tell from his furrowed brows that he’s actually upset. 

“Damn… I really am stupid,” Changbin mumbles absentmindedly. “I can’t believe I thought Hyunjin and Felix liked each other the whole time.”

“You really are a whole dumbass.” Felix says, completely endeared. “At least you’re cute.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, I’m taking you down in this next round, babe.” 

“Bring it, bitch,”

 

Later, when the group was starting to head home, Jisung catches Jeongin alone in the kitchen. 

“Hey,” he says softly to the younger. 

Jeongin’s opening the fridge in search of something to drink, spotting some orange juice and grabbing it with a satisfied grin. “What’s up, hyung?”

“You seemed more upset than you let on earlier and I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

He hears a sigh escape Jeongin and the younger sits down across from Jisung at the table. He takes his time to gather his thoughts as he pours a glass of the juice. 

“I’m just sad that Seungmin’s mad, I guess,” he begins. “This is my first relationship and I want to tell him all about it and have his support, but it really hurts that he won’t even talk to me.”

Jisung nods encouragingly.

“But I also understand where he’s coming from. He’s liked Hyunjin longer than me and I would be upset, too, if my crush started dating my brother. I just… I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”

“I think Seungmin’s stupid, but we all knew that,” Jeongin giggles. “But let him cool down. He just needs some time to accept what happened. He’ll come around sooner or later and before you know it, he’ll be telling you that same dumb story about the purple waterfall and flowers made of eyes,” Jisung says. 

Jeongin looks contemplative for a few seconds before he takes a sip of his orange juice. 

“Yeah. I hope you’re right. Thanks, hyung, I probably would’ve ended up overthinking the whole thing without your advice,”

Jeongin leaves with a brighter, more genuine smile and Jisung has a matching one knowing the others would eventually figure everything out. 

 

°

 

A few days later the group decides to meet up at the local arcade to hang out and spend some loose change. Seungmin joins them, and although he’s quieter than usual, Jisung appreciates his effort to amend things. 

“Let’s play Pac-Man, hyung,” Jeongin says excitedly to his older brother, who fights a smile off his lips and lets the younger drag him away to where the game machine was located in the back corner. 

Hyunjin watches them go with a content gaze before he joins Felix and Chan to play some combat game. Jisung looks around but doesn’t see Minho anywhere and he frowns. 

“Boo!” a voice says suddenly in his ear and Jisung lets out a startled yelp, jumping away from the noise. He turns to see exactly who he was looking for and glares playfully. 

“I was looking for you, jerk. Now I don’t want to play with you anymore,” he says, crossing his arms and turning away. He takes a step in the direction of a random game but Minho sneaks his arms around Jisung’s waist and pulls him against his chest, effectively stopping the younger. 

“But I wanna hang out with you,” Minho mumbles and if Jisung could see his face he knew there would be a pout on his pretty lips. 

Jisung struggles to get out of his hold but the older’s grip is too tight and he gets nowhere. “This is bullying. It’s not fair that you’re stronger than me.”

“Then work out more,” Minho replies, swaying them from side to side. 

“No, I don’t want to,” Jisung says distractedly, working on prying Minho’s fingers off his arm to maybe slip away. 

“Good, I don’t want you to either. Then I wouldn’t be able to trap you in my hugs like this,” 

“You call this a hug?” Jisung asks, letting out a startled “Oh!” when Minho spins him around in his arms so that he’s facing the older. “Hi.” he giggles, suddenly shy. 

“Hi,” Minho’s eyes crinkle as he replies, mimicking his smile. He leans forward and Jisung blinks up at him expectantly, but the other only presses a gentle kiss on the tip of Jisung’s nose before pulling away again. Jisung’s cheeks flare up but he makes no attempt to get away anymore. 

“Ew, please stop. You guys are in public,” Changbin calls from somewhere behind them and they immediately pull away, suddenly aware that they were in fact standing in the middle of the arcade and anyone could have seen them. They share secret smiles before Jisung is getting whisked away by a tug on his arm from Felix to play a game with him, Minho watching after the two fondly. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” Woojin asks and Minho looks to his right to see the older staring after the younger boys. 

“Yeah, I really do,” Minho finds himself answering, looking down at his hands shyly when he realizes the older boy probably witnessed the sappy scene. 

“I’m glad. He deserves to be happy. It’s been so long since I’ve last seen him like this. Thank you,” Woojin says earnestly. 

Minho seems lost for words for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing before he decides on,“I’m glad I could help”. 

The tight-lipped smile that graces his features after seems off to Woojin, but he shakes his head. It probably was nothing. 

 

°

 

Minho disappears again at the end of December. 

Woojin blames himself. 

“I saw it in his eyes whenever I talked to him the past few weeks,” the oldest insists. “He looked… off. And now I realize he was upset because he knew he was going to leave again and he didn’t say anything!”

“Woojin, calm down, please,” Chan says tiredly. He’s rubbing his eyes, newspaper forgotten on his lap. 

Felix doesn’t say anything, just watches Jisung. 

“It’s okay, hyung.” Jisung says, exhaustion evident in how quietly his words come out. He takes a sip of his coffee, cradling the mug to his chest for warmth. His tone is neutral and his face is blank. “I don’t know what exactly the reason is for why he leaves, but I know it’s at least family related and that’s enough for me. I trust him.”

“Jisung, you don’t know anything about his family, or him for that matter. He could be lying to you about everything.” Woojin says, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

Chan makes a noise, as if Woojin was going too far, but Jisung interrupts. 

“Hyung, please,” he says for the last time. There’s an air of finality. “If I end up hurt, I end up hurt, but I’m too far in to give up on him now. Just trust me.”

 

°

 

The spray paint can is heavy in Jisung’s hand. 

He’d taken up his old hobby a few weeks back as an outlet for his emotions and he knew that Chan had figured out what he was up to. Every time he quietly came back late into the night, taking extra care to not make noise and wake anyone up, the older would be standing by the doorway leading into the kitchen as if he sensed when Jisung was on his way home. They would always make eye contact, Chan looking more and more disappointed and exhausted each time, before the older would tell him to go to bed. Jisung couldn’t bring himself to care. The same dark blue eye bags graced his own features. 

Jisung works fast and diligently, shading the petals of the same lotus flower he had been painting on numerous building throughout the past few weeks. One too many close calls with the police has him on edge tonight. He was quite fond of running from the cops, found it exhilarating even, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with them when the weight of sleep was heavy on his eyelids. 

Something about the tranquility of the night and the quiet pop of the paint can lid was so enthralling to him. In his small town, there were no cars whooshing by as they made late night trips, no voices echoing off of alley walls, or music radiating from some random building in the distance like in the city. Often, there was just silence accompanied by lonely crickets or quiet rustling of tree branches in the wind. Jisung appreciates it in the small moments he takes to himself during the night. 

He knows Felix is worried about him after Minho disappeared again. His best friend didn’t always voice his concerns, but the way he shot Jisung constant glances when they were both chilling in his bedroom and how the dusty haired boy would start stealing random candy bars or chips and leave them for Jisung was enough for him to know. He was thankful, of course, but he wasn’t that fragile. Minho had left again, yes, but he had picked himself up before, and he would do it once more whether or not Minho returned. 

Busy using white paint to highlight the petals of the lotus, Jisung didn’t notice the approaching footsteps from behind. He jumped at the tap on his shoulder, spinning around and accidentally spraying the person with white paint. Only after he calmed down did he realize who it was. 

“Fuck you, you deserved that,” Jisung says, turning back around to finish his graffiti with shaky hands. Minho laughs softly. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the older replies quietly, looking down at the bright white stripe steadily drying across the arms of his jacket.

They don’t make much more conversation, Minho just watching as Jisung signs the wall with his signature and throws the half-empty can into his duffel bag filled with various other colors. He hoists it up onto his shoulder and starts walking away. When he doesn’t hear the other boy following, he looks over his shoulder and beckons him with a nod in the direction of Chan’s house. 

“Are you coming?,” It comes out neutral and void of any particular emotion, but Minho knows the other is just as hurt as the last time he left, just better at hiding his emotions this time around. It hurts the older to know he was the cause of it. 

The two are only a few minutes away when the unmistakable sound of police sirens cut through the silence of the night. Just their luck. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Jisung groans, shaking his head and gripping his bag tighter. He can spot the flashing lights dancing off houses a few blocks over and decides they have enough time to get away. “Someone must of saw us and snitched, probably the Lee’s, those assholes.”

“What do we do?” Minho asks. His eyes are wide with panic and he’s glancing at the source of lights every second or so. Jisung forgets momentarily that the other didn’t grow up in the town and didn’t have the back alleys and shortcuts memorized the way he did. 

“What do you mean ‘what do we do’? Run, idiot!” and Jisung is grabbing the older by the wrist, darting away. 

He leads them off the sidewalk, cutting between houses and through yards, terrain he knew better than the back of his hand. He spots Chan’s house in the distance and pushes harder, the sirens growing louder as the cars round corner of the street he and Mino were on. He curses under his breath but they reach the front door safely. He twists the knob, almost yelling in frustration when he realizes it’s locked. 

“Fuck me,”Jisung whisper yells and Minho tightens his grip. 

“Jisung, hurry,” Minho replies frantically, watching as the cars come ever closer. This wasn’t how he thought this night was going to go. 

“It’s locked,” Jisung supplies helplessly. “We have to go through my bedroom window. I always leave it unlocked.”Jisung leads Minho off the front porch to the side of the house. There’s a large tree growing next to Jisung’s window, but it has quite a distance between the two. Minho looks at it warily. “Up we go.”

Minho is left stranded as Jisung let’s his hand go in order to climb the tree. The older just stares upwards, willing himself to move but not having the courage to. 

“Minho, fucking hurry. Do you want to get arrested?” Jisung hisses out when he notices the other still on the ground. 

“I’m scared of heights,” Minho replies.

“For the love of god,” Jisung climbs back down and grabs Minho’s arm, pulling him up the trunk slightly. “Grab on and climb. I’m not bailing you out, I can’t afford that.”

After coaxing the older boy up the tree, Jisung pulls him through his bedroom window and they land with a quiet thud on the ground. They’re a mess of limbs and twigs, but they’re not in the back of a police car, so he counts it as a win. Minho starts laughing incredulously as he processes the whole situation and Jisung can’t help but join in, their giggles softly dying out after a few moments. 

“What the fuck I can’t believe that just happened. I’ve never run from the cops before,” Minho whispers with an excited grin. He’s lying with half of his body draped over Jisung’s still, but the other makes no move to push him off. 

“Well, if you’re gonna sneak up on me graffitiing again, you better get used to it. This town is full of snitches,” Jisung says. He looks over at Minho, reaching across his body to gently fix his messed up hair. “You’re an idiot.”

Minho smiles at him in response and Jisung rolls his eyes, though a smile of his own ghosts over his lips. They are quiet for a few moments, save from their labored breaths, both staring up at the ceiling in a silence of unanswered questions. 

“I’m sorry I left again.” Minho mumbles into the darkness after a few moments. 

“It’s okay,” Jisung says. 

“No, it’s not,”

“No, you’re right, it isn’t okay. But I’ll pretend it is, for your sake.” Minho is staring at him already when Jisung glances over. His eyes subconsciously flicker down to his lips and back up, almost as if it never actually happened. 

“I don’t want you to pretend that you’re fine, Jisung,” Minho says, reaching out to cup the younger boy’s cheek. He strokes it with a thumb and Jisung’s eyes flutter shut, a content sigh leaving his lips. “This is all my fault, I know, but please stop putting up this facade that you are. It’s okay to let yourself feel something once in a while.”

Jisung doesn’t reply after that. He’s too caught up in his thoughts, in the way Minho’s cheekbones are sunken in and his eye bags are darker than he’s ever seen them. In his embrace, Jisung can feel exactly how much weight the older had lost while he was away. His chest aches with all the unanswered questions. He just wants to know what exactly happens during the times of Minho’s absence. What exactly the older was going through to look so sickly after just a few weeks. 

Jisung falls asleep a few minutes later, exhaustion creeping up on him. He’s still in Minho’s arm, the older pressing soft kissing on the crown of his head and gently combing his fingers through his messy hair. There’s still so much to talk about, but Minho figures Jisung could use the rest from how deep the bags under his eyes were. 

Minho watches him momentarily, eyes scoping over the younger’s face, and he continues to caress his cheek in a steady, comforting rhythm. Shaking his head clear of thoughts, he shifts their positions so that he can hoist Jisung up bridal style. He makes sure not to wake the other boy before placing him in his bed and covering him with a blanket. 

Minho grabs the extra blanket resting by Jisung’s feet and makes himself comfortable on the floor. He attempts to sleep for a few moments before he feels Jisung poking his shoulder. He looks up and sees that the other is blinking down at him with half-lidded eyes, but grins when he hears a mumbled, “Sleep with me”.

He grabs the hand reaching out for him and makes himself comfortable under the covers, falling asleep within minutes, a fond smile on his face and Jisung’s arms wrapped tightly around him. 

 

°

 

Minho joins the group the next time they all hang out. There’s some cold glances shot his way and some whispers that don’t go unnoticed, but for the most part they understand now that they’ll simply never know some things about Minho no matter how hard it would be to accept. 

“Hey, nerds,” Hyunjin greets as he walks into the living room from the kitchen. He’s carrying two bowls of popcorn and some waters, with which he places on the coffee table in front of the couch. “What movie did we decide on?”

“Heathers!”

“Again?”

“Yes, again, Jeongin.”

“But we watch it almost every sleepover we have.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do”

“No—“

“Whatever, just play it. No one really cares. We barely even watch it, anyways,” Woojin interrupts the bickering and gives Changbin a look to press play. 

Minho’s head is in Jisung’s lap, the younger carding his fingers through it softly, lulling him to sleep. Jisung smiles down at Minho, completely endeared. 

Maybe things would be okay in the end. 

 

°

 

Hyunjin mentions a party someone from their grade was throwing and the group decides it’d be a great idea to attend, hence the crowd of people Jisung is greeted with upon entering a random house a few neighborhoods over. His hand is clasped firmly in Minho’s and he pulls the black-haired boy in with him, shutting the door behind them on the biting cold mid-January brings. . 

The house is relatively big, definitely adequate for the amount of people currently congregated inside, and Jisung is immediately whisked away from Minho by random people in his grade who want to talk to him. He turns around and searches for the older boy but is met with a sea of bodies that aren’t Minho. He decides, in the meantime, getting one drink wouldn't hurt anybody before finding him again. 

One drink turns into two, and then three, and then maybe six. Who knows? Certainly not Jisung, too preoccupied as he messily pours a shot down his throat. Or at least attempts to, half of it spilling onto his face and shirt. 

 

He leaves the drinks in favor of wandering his way throughout the house, no particular destination in mind. He soon runs into a sturdy body in the hallway leading to what he presumes is a bathroom. He stumbles backwards with a giggle and looks up through his lashes at the person. Minho looks down at him disapprovingly. 

“You promised you’d stay with me,” Minho says and Jisung swears there’s a hint of a pout tugging at his lips, but it’s probably just a trick of the light. 

“I was gonna find you after I had a drink,” Jisung explains, inching closer not so subtly. “But then they kept handing more to me and who was I to say no?” 

He goes to lean on the wall like the smooth man he is, but miscalculates how far away it actually is and finds himself falling to the side, balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. Minho reflexively shoots out an arm and steadies him with a grip around his waist. 

“You’re so annoying,” Minho laughs prettily. If snowflakes fluttering to the ground on a breezy, winter night made a noise, Jisung thinks, it’d sound exactly like that. Light and airy, yet enrapturing. Jisung is captivated by the sound and keeps ahold of the older’s arm even when he tries to retract it, bringing Jisung with it. “Get off, you leech.”

“No!” Jisung says childishly, holding on tighter. Another giggle escapes his lips as Minho attempts to shake him off with little success. 

“You’re such a little kid,” Minho says, giving up on pushing Jisung away and instead pulls him into a tight embrace he can’t escape from. He ruffles his hair fondly with his free hand and presses a kiss to the messed up locks. 

“Hey! Don’t touch my hair,” Jisung grumbles against Minho’s chest, cheek smooshed. He feels the vibrations of Minho’s laugh more than he hears it. 

“Don’t drink so much,” is the others response and Jisung just cranes his neck to look up at him with a glare. They both knew that wasn’t happening. 

Minho looks at Jisung and his expression softens around the edges and before Jisung knows it, the older swoops down to meet his lips in a chaste kiss. Jisung turns absolutely red and he blinks dumbly at the older boy. 

“Hyung!” is his only protest but the black-haired boy just hums with a smile. 

“Just a little kiss and you’re that embarrassed? I can’t wait to see what you’re like with other stuff,” Minho mumbles quiet enough so no strangers around them can hear. Jisung pushes himself away from Minho’s arms, scandalized. 

“Excuse me, hyung.” Jisung forces out, his face obviously not just burning up from the alcohol anymore. “That’s not very appropriate.”

“Well, the things I want to do to you aren’t very appropriate.” Minho replies with a smirk and Jisung can’t meet his eyes, but the older’s words cause something warm to bloom in his chest. 

Deciding he wants to figure out what exactly the room at the end of the hallway actually was, he grabs Minho by the collar of his shirt and drags him inside, shutting the door behind them. 

He was right, it was a bathroom. 

 

°

 

The next day, Jisung wakes up in a pile of limbs on Chan’s living room floor. The group had all managed to find their way back to his house throughout the night and crashed anywhere there was space. He pushes Felix’s arm off from his waist and grimaces when he feels Seungmin’s drool on his leg where his pants had bunched up in the night. He hears someone that sounds eerily like Woojin snoring from the other side of the room and decides he won’t be able to fall asleep again, too hot from all the bodies clustered together. He carefully maneuvers his way out and heads to the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot and grabbing a loaf of bread to make some toast. He’s in the middle of buttering a slice when Changbin walks in mid yawn. 

“I made some coffee,” Jisung greets, handing a steaming cup to the sleepy boy who accepts it graciously. His hands reach out to fix the other’s hair, taming the wild strands sticking up in different directions. 

“Thanks,” Changbin mumbles, his eyes still half closed, and takes a seat at the kitchen table. He watches as Jisung turns back to finish his toast and promptly chokes on his coffee when he sees the other’s neck. “Jisung! You freak,” he teases, suddenly awake. 

“What?” Jisung asks confused. He’s still a little delirious from his slumber. 

“You have hickeys all over your neck, you dog,” Changbin says with a laugh as he watches Jisung immediately slap a hand up to said area, the smack resonating within the kitchen and they both laugh at the noise. 

“What the fuck,” Jisung gently whispers after they calm down, making his way to the bathroom to investigate. Sure enough, a trail of hickeys are unmistakably present on his neck and down his collarbones and who knows where else. Memories of the party flood through his mind as he stares at his reflection and all he can see is Minho’s hooded eyes and swollen lips as he hovered above Jisung. Fuck. 

He quietly makes his way back to the kitchen with a hand attempting to hide the marks, making sure not to wake up anyone in the living room. Changbin takes one look at him before he’s laughing again. 

“Please shut up and let me die,” Jisung mumbles meekly, hands coming up to cover his dusty cheeks. He peeks through his fingers as Changbin replies. 

“I’m not laughing at you I promise,” Changbin says and Jisung gives him a look. “Okay… maybe a little. But I’m glad you and Minho hyung have finally worked things out. I’m happy for you, Ji, truly.”

Jisung lets a small, fond smile form on his lips and he laughs to himself quietly, staring down at his own cup of coffee with twinkling eyes. 

“I’m happy, too,”

 

°

 

The ice skating rink is chilly and Jisung hugs his jacket closer to his body to keep the last traces of warmth in. He looks back to where Minho is still in the midst of tying up his skates and waits for the older to join him on the ice. 

“Jisung, this is the worst date idea you’ve had yet,” Minho grumbles as he struggles to keep himself standing on shaky legs. Jisung watches with an amused grin as the raven haired boy clutches the railing with one hand and reaches out towards him with the other, silently begging for help. 

“Come to me, hyung,” Jisung calls out, skating backwards until he was a few feet away. He can hear Minho groan. 

“You promised to hold my hand the entire time, that’s the only reason I agreed to this,” Minho complains, grip still tight on the railing. 

“If you can make it to me, I promise I’ll hold your hand,” Jisung says. Minho eyes him suspiciously. “Seriously! I promise!”

Minho steadies himself, loosens his grip on the rail, and pushes off in the direction of Jisung. He manages to travel in one direction but can’t control his speed and lets out a loud “Shit!” before crashing into Jisung and taking them both down onto the ice. 

“You fucking suck, hyung,” Jisung groans, moving Minho’s arm off of where it landed on his face. Minho pushes himself up so that his hands are on either side of Jisung’s head. 

“Maybe I did that on purpose,” Minho says with a smirk. 

Jisung doesn’t reply, opting to wrap his arms around the older’s neck, challenging him to chicken out. “You and I both know that’s just an excuse for the fact that you can’t skate.” He pulls Minho down closer so their faces are only a breath away. 

“Yeah, an excuse to get closer to you,” Minho whispers, leaning in slightly and Jisung’s eyes flutter shut expectantly. However, all he gets is the light press of lips to his forehead before Minho is pulling away and clumsily getting to his feet. He offers Jisung a hand, who slaps it away defiantly and gets up on his own. 

“I hate you. Gimme a smooch,” Jisung pouts, exaggerating a kissy face. Minho cringes and turns away. 

“You’re gross, no.” 

“But hyung–“ 

“I said no, you leech,”

Jisung takes off to chase Minho, who tries to get away only to fall onto his face again. Jisung’s giggles echo off the walls of the skating rink. 

 

°

 

Jisung considers talking to Chan about his concerns with his relationship, but shrugs the thought away quickly. He didn’t want to worry the older. 

Lately, Minho had felt more distant emotionally and it seemed he was trying to make up for it by being overly affectionate physically. The man had begun to constantly smell like smoke and he never seemed to have enough money. Jisung was beginning to get anxious. Something was going on that Minho was hiding and he could tell.

Sometimes, the rare moments Minho let Jisung into his apartment, the other would freak out at small things he would do. Minho was inconsistently irritable, and on some nights, no matter how many layers of blankets they were under, Minho would shake uncontrollably. He claimed it was the cold of winter, but Jisung could see the sweat accumulating on his forehead. 

Jisung didn’t know what was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Minho himself. The older had carefully constructed a wall between the two that made him feel as if all his attempts to get to know Minho were futile. 

Jisung sighs, pushing the uneasy feeling in his gut farther down and ignores it. It could wait. He would talk to Chan if it got worse. Maybe Minho was just getting sick.

Maybe he was just overthinking everything. 

 

°

 

Jisung is sprawled out on his bed, limbs tangled in his comforter. The vinyl on his record player had ended nearly twenty minutes ago and was only playing a soft static as background noise now. It was late, almost midnight, and he was wide awake for the third night in a row. His mind had been buzzing with thoughts lately and with each passing day, the more he continued to overthink.

He lets out a sigh, shifting his position so that he was lying on his stomach, resting his chin on top of his hands. He’s in the middle of counting the amount of holes he’s put in the wall over the years when the door bursts open to reveal a slightly out of breath Felix. Jisung sits up at the intrusion.

“Why’re you so sweaty?” Jisung asks, cowering away when Felix makes his way inside the bedroom and plops down on the bed next to him.

“My Jisung senses were tingling,” is all the dusty-haired boy says.

“What were they saying?”

“That you needed my love,” Felix answers and is immediately clinging onto his best friend like a koala and Jisung has no time to react before he’s trapped.

“Felix! No!” Jisung protests, trying to push the other off but failing miserably in his tight hold. “You’re all gross!”

“I’m trying to give you affection,”

“Well, do it when you don’t smell so bad!”

Felix pulls away when Jisung doesn’t stop struggling and moves over so they both have room to comfortably lay on the bed. 

“I was actually having a great time with Changbin when I thought about how the two of us hadn’t hung out alone in a while,” Felix explains and Jisung’s nose scrunches up in disgust.

“First of all, never tell me about how great of a time you and Changbin ever have, thanks,” Felix giggles at his friend. 

“I’m kidding. My parents kicked me out for no reason again and it’s rather cold outside without a jacket so I ran.” Jisung frowns.

“I’m sorry, Lix,” he says, moving to lay his head against the other’s chest. He listens to Felix’s steady heartbeat, counting in time with it as they lay together. “You always have this house as your second home.”

“I know, and I appreciate you, Woojin, and Chan more than you know.” Felix says. They lie in silence for a few moments before he speaks up again, turning his head to look at Jisung. “Hey, I know it’s freezing, but can we go lay on the roof like we used to do when we were younger and thought it was cool and rebellious?”

Jisung grins, a real, genuine smile, and laughs delightedly. “I forgot we used to do that. God, we thought we were so cool back then. Now all we do is drink, smoke, and lose brain cells.”

“C’mon, let’s go,” and Felix is standing up excitedly, dragging Jisung out of his bed.

They layer up in sweatpants and hoodies and grab a small blanket to share before heading to the window. It opens with a loud creak that has the two boys giggling into each other like when they were back in middle school. They climb out onto the roof above the garage, settling on a flat span of shingles near the middle. 

“It’s so fucking cold, oh my god,” Jisung says, already shivering. 

“C’mere, you baby,” Felix says, pulling him closer and wrapping the blanket tightly around them in a cozy cocoon of fabric. Jisung hums contently. 

They sit there without speaking until they lose track of how much time had passed, enjoying the clear night sky and twinkling stars in the company of each other. 

“Felix,” Jisung mumbles quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. Felix hums. “Remember when we thought we were gonna make it out of here?”

“What do you mean? I still believe we can do it together.” Felix still sounds so determined and sure that they had a bright future waiting for them that Jisung feels his heart ache uncomfortably. “Are you starting to doubt us.”

“Not us, just me.” Jisung admits. “I’m scared of this town. It sucks the life out of everyone in it.”

“Not me!” Felix says enthusiastically and Jisung can’t fight the smile that makes its way into his lips. “You just have to believe you can make it and you’ll succeed.”

“It sure doesn’t feel that way. I have nothing going for me.” Jisung says with a sigh. A breeze picks up, sleeping through the fabric of the blanket and causing his hair to stand on end. He shuffled closer to Felix for warmth. “And I’ll just be eaten up in a world I don’t understand if I do make it out.”

Felix takes it upon himself to flick his best friend in the forehead. 

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“For being stupid.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Well, stop.”

Jisung glares at Felix and pulls the blanket off the other boy who’s immediately attacked by the cold. 

“What the fuck! Jisung!”

Jisung lets out an evil cackle, watching the dusty-haired boy suffer from the biting wind before offering his share of the blanket back. Felix grabs it roughly, grumbling as he hugs himself to gain back all the heat that fled. 

 

°

 

Jisung meets Minho one night after a late shift at the convenience store. It would be completely dark with the way the moon was hidden behind dense clouds, but the snow covering the ground in a soft blanket had refused to melt away during the day and was reflecting back up into the sky. It cast a gentle brightness into the night that Jisung loved, one of his favorite aspects of winter. 

Minho immediately takes ahold of Jisung’s cold, trembling hands in his own gloved ones upon seeing the younger. 

“You’re so dumb. I told you to wear gloves,” Minho admonishes, bringing them up to his mouth and blowing hot puffs of air on them to warm them up. Jisung fights off a soft smile. 

“Sorry,” he says unapologetically. “I forgot. I was too excited to see you to remember such trivial things.”

Minho rolls his eyes but the grin forcing its way onto his lips tells Jisung he was excited to see him, too. 

“You’re insufferable,” Minho’s eyes crinkle in the way that the younger loves so much. The earmuffs sitting snugly on Jisung’s head are making Minho softer than usual and he instinctively reaches out to fix them when they slide a little too far to one side. 

There’s something beautiful in the way Minho’s cheeks flourish in the cold of the winter night, Jisung notices; the biting wind grazing his cheeks and making him look livelier and healthier than he had in months with a light flush of pink. Jisung glances over and doesn’t look away. He doesn’t care if Minho knows he’s looking at him. He can’t help but think of how Minho is breathtaking in a way that no one else is to him and Jisung wishes he could stare at him forever. But the lingering thought that Minho was ephemeral haunts him. It’s always there in the back of his mind. Minho didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone. Jisung wanted believe so badly that he was different to the older boy, but the way it felt like Minho was a tendril of smoke, wisping its way through his fingertips, made Jisung realize too late that Minho was never truly his and never truly would be.

He takes in the way Minho’s scarf covers half of his cheeks, anyways, and how his nose, reddened by the wind, peers over the edges of his scarf, and how his ears peek out from under his black beanie in a way that was just so Minho. Jisung gets distracted by the older as he fixes his gloves, slender fingers pulling languidly on the soft gray fabric to readjust them. The light from the streetlight to their right illuminates the melting snowflakes that had gotten caught in his dark eyelashes, only to be blinked away seconds later, and quickly replaced once again. 

He drinks in the site, taking time to burn it into his memory and file it away in the cabinet in his mind labeled never forget. It was mostly filled with memories of the older boy, now. It was the little details Jisung loved the most about him. Minho gives Jisung a curious look as he feels the blonde’s gaze on him, but Jisung just shakes his head at the other. Winter was definitely Minho’s season. 

Some things were more precious because they didn’t last long enough. Just like snowflakes, Jisung muses absentmindedly, eyes traveling down the slopes of Minho’s back as the older locks up the convenience store for the night. 

They depart from the building and walk hand in hand, the only sound coming from the crunching of snow under their shoes. Jisung really needed to get rid of his old pair of converse; they did nothing to stop his toes from getting numb thanks to the many holes littered throughout them from the countless years of use. He doesn’t mind, he finds, eyes cast downwards distractedly at their feet as he tries to match his steps with Minho’s. Jisung’s little legs couldn’t quite keep up. He doesn't mind the cold if he had Minho’s hand in his, the light snowfall cascading down around them, and a promise of a warm bed waiting for them at Minho’s apartment. 

The snow surrounding them seemed to mute the usual white noise of nature into nothing but a void of soft gusts of wind and the occasional hoot of an owl. Silence was something Jisung used to love about winter but it was suddenly not as eerily comforting to him the longer they walked. Unease was crawling it’s way into his stomach, claws digging in deep, making the feeling hard to shake. The way Minho bit his lips continuously as if he was nervous, making the skin more raw as he did so, and holding back words he knew he couldn’t say made Jisung appreciate the silence a little less. It didn’t matter, he reassures himself at the sudden emptiness in his chest. They’d be okay. They were okay. 

After walking for awhile in a comfortable silence, they reach Minho’s small, trashy apartment that Jisung loved. Minho fumbles with his keys, hands too frozen to move properly and Jisung watches fondly as he almost drops them a few times. Jisung knew Minho was embarrassed of his apartment and didn’t let him over nearly as much as he wanted, but he loved the way the furnace grumbled angrily, and the way his couch sank in just perfectly, and the way the buttons on the microwave had to be pressed a little too forcefully. They were little things that Minho himself probably didn’t appreciate or even notice, but Jisung loved them because the whole place just reminded him of Minho. Of home. 

They make their way inside, kicking off their shoes and throwing their jackets and hats onto the kitchen table haphazardly. That was a mess to clean on another day when the promise of hot chocolate and cuddles wasn’t waiting for them a room over. 

There’s something bittersweet in the way their limbs tangle together, not knowing where one ends or where the other begins. Jisung’s face is pressed comfortably in Minho’s chest, the older running his fingers through his hair periodically, occasionally tugging out knots that have Jisung humming contently. Minho’s two cats are cuddled together at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. It’s warm, familiar, and domestic. Jisung suddenly feels sick. 

He doesn’t move from his position, yet the feeling that Minho wasn’t actually in his arms caused his stomach to churn, unsettled. His worries from their walk home flood back into his mind, the wall he’d put up to block them out cracking and breaking like an old dam letting the turbulent forces of water through. 

He glances up at the older boy. Minho has his eyes closed and Jisung can hear the little, rhythmic puffs of air coming from his mouth as he breathes softly. He looks peaceful at first glance, the curve of his lips tugged into a small smile, but Jisung notices the crease in his eyebrows and how his other hand placed behind his head for support twitches as he thinks. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” Jisung whispers. It’s not a lie, but the words feel awkward in his mouth as they stumble out before he can stop them. 

Minho’s eyes fly open and immediately lock onto his. His mouth parts, hanging slightly agape in surprise, before relaxing into an affectionate smile. It looks relaxed on the surface. He looks relaxed on the surface, yet Jisung can tell he’s anything but. Jisung thinks Minho underestimates him and what he notices about the older. 

Minho brings his hand down from Jisung’s hair to cup the younger boy’s cheek instead and replies, “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Jisung smiles tightly, heart thumping painfully when he sees the same hand behind Minho’s head twitch once more. 

 

°

 

Jisung finds himself in front of the train car where it all started. 

He screams as loud as he can, punching the door repeatedly until his knuckles become red with blood and the stinging fades into numbness. He leans his sweaty forehead against the cool metal of the train, panting. It’s not enough. The pain doesn’t distract him from the empty ache in his chest. He doesn’t think anything will ever be enough. 

He slides down until he’s sitting weakly on the uncomfortable rocks under him, back pressed against the train. He cradles his hand to his chest, unable to wipe away the tears that begin to fall as he thinks back to every moment shared with Minho. 

“I’m so stupid,” he whispers to no one. A lonely dog barks in the distance, echoing off the hollowness of his chest, and the trees bristle in the cold of the winter wind. “So, so stupid.”

He should have known, living in such a cursed town, that he wasn’t deserving of true love.

He should have known. 

 

°

 

“A young man was found last night in the Han river. It appears he had fatal amounts of illicit drugs in his system and had fallen unconscious behind the wheel. Witnesses say he swerved and ended up going over the railing. By the time his body was rescued, he had already been submerged for—“ 

He was sat on Minho’s couch, his cats curled into his side, and he shifts slightly to reach for his mug of tea on the coffee table in front of him. Minho had left in the middle of the night, saying he needed to run a quick errand and would be back the next day, but Jisung was beginning to doubt his empty promises more and more.

Jisung switches the news channel uninterestedly, thinking of what a shame it was that drugs were so cruel to people as images of the car being pulled out of the water danced across the tv screen. 

 

°

 

Jisung knew Minho’s habits of disappearing would one day leave him broken and the older hurt, but he didn’t have the heart to ever confront him. 

Sometimes he wishes he could have done things differently when he looks back, reminiscing on his high school days. To have intervened and found out exactly what Minho was going through, to put a stop to his childish antics of running away, but the past was the past and the future didn’t wait up for him or Minho. 

 

 

 

When Minho disappears for the third and last time, he never comes back.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're feeling freaky, follow me on twitter @ flirtykwon


End file.
